


A Natural Progression

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Fumbling Teenage Boys [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Awkwardness, First Time, Frot, Intercrural Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-Interhigh tournament, pre-Winter Cup. It isn't rocket science why Kagami is avoiding him, but it *is* annoying. Kuroko, never one to sugar coat (even when delicate teenage hormones happen to be involved), takes it upon himself to address the issue by simply showing up at Kagami's apartment. Things are brought to a head, as they often are with Kagami involved. Admitting feelings (plus the stigmas of homosexuality in Japan) and sticky, awkward (but fun) smutty things ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Natural Progression

Most nights, Kagami Taiga doesn’t mind being alone.

 

Most high school freshman can’t say that they have their own apartments, or that they can eat whatever they want, or that no one tells them when to go to bed. He’s lucky in that way, he guesses. Besides, it’s _Tokyo_. If he were to crave burgers at two in the morning, there’ll be places open. Karaoke on a school night, places are open. Fresh lobsters caught and killed at his table any time of day, any day of the week, places are open.

 

It’s a damn shame that the one thing he _wants_ , to sit down to a dumb American sitcom with a plate of real authentic nachos, is about as far from possible as doing a layup from Mars. 

 

(Another shame that really, sometimes, he doesn’t _like_ living alone.)

 

The washing up finished, he plops down in front of the TV anyway, flipping through eight NHK channels of news, kids’ anime, weird singing competition and more news, before settling on a half-finished baseball game. 

 

_If you’re Japanese, you have to play baseball!_

 

Odd that that phrase should ring in his head so much. Maybe it’s to keep other thoughts out.

 

Kuroko doesn't bother to think when he knocks on the door. 

 

Rarely he thinks when it comes to Kagami, and for the better, usually. What _brings_ him here makes him think, though, and that's worrisome. Kagami has been weird lately--and, honestly, if anyone knows how to label _weird_ , it's Kuroko. 

 

For all that _he_ has ever been called strange, Kuroko doesn't bat an eye. The same goes with everyone _else_ from the Generation of Miracles that Kagami (and everyone else) has ever brushed off as 'weird' or 'off' or 'strange.' Kuroko supposes they all are, but perhaps it's because they're all so bluntly honest about themselves and what they _are_ that makes them that particular degree of weird.

 

Of course, Kagami being 'weird' is the exact opposite--he's hiding something, and not being honest at all. 

 

Probably, the most annoying fact is how Kuroko has to come up with an excuse to see himself over, all courtesy of the other boy sneaking around and avoiding him. Really, he should have brought the dog to punch some sense into Kagami properly. 

 

It takes a second before Kagami even registers the knock at the door, flipping off the TV with a scowl. “I wasn’t even _walking_ loud,” he mutters under his breath, getting ready to face the landlord, or worse, his _wife_ , who’s always convinced Kagami’s a foreign bastard who’s going to stomp a hole in the floor. He yanks the door open without looking out the peephole, but whatever polite reply he’d been reaching for vanishes when he sees that familiar stare looking up at him. “Kuroko?” 

 

Something twists in his belly, though that could be the sad attempt he’d made at making Mexican burritos with Japanese ingredients, then eating twenty of them no matter how mediocre they’d turned out. “What are you doing here? This is far from your house.”

 

Kuroko blinks up at him slowly. "Mm. But you were avoiding me at school and after practice, so I'm here," he says, and calmly lifts up the relative book of exam study materials they were given. "I saw your scores. You could use a tutor." It's better to use the excuse first, deal with the actual issue later. Kuroko wouldn't put it past Kagami to slam a door in his face.

 

The _insult_ of being told he needs a tutor is a lot less than the intense relief that Kuroko’s here to talk about test scores. “I don’t have a problem with school,” he mutters, but he leaves the door open, flopping down on the couch. “I’ll pull my grades up by the end of the year, I always do. I just forgot the year ends in the spring here.”

 

Well, at least he doesn't have a door in his face.

 

Kuroko takes that as an invitation, toeing off his shoes as he steps inside and shuts the door behind himself. "But even your English scores are awful. Is that even possible when you're supposedly fluent?" 

 

“Aw, that’s _different_ ,” Kagami protests, begrudgingly getting out his notebooks. “Those tests are dumb, no one really talks like that. No one says ‘Excuse me, which way to the library?’ in L.A. It’s all ‘Hey, what’s up? Want a burger?’” 

 

He flexes his toes in his house socks, scowling down at his textbooks. “And no one ever says anything about _past participles_ , shit.”

 

"I guess you're right. It's not like _you'd_ ever ask anyone where the library is, anyway," Kuroko mildly returns, plopping himself down onto the couch next to Kagami. "So you probably don't care about learning that." He pauses, glancing down to Kagami's wiggling toes briefly. "Anyway, I actually sort of lied about why I'm here." 

 

“Oh?” Kagami frowns, almost leans over to give Kuroko’s forehead a poke, then pulls back at the last second. “You didn’t have to lie. I know my test scores are bad.”

 

"They're definitely bad," Kuroko agrees, lifting his eyes again to look more directly at the other boy. "And I don't mind helping you with them. It was more an excuse to get you to let me in than anything, though. You've been avoiding me for nearly a week now." 

 

 _Dammit_. Kagami looks away, wishing suddenly that he’d left the TV on, just to give himself an excuse to look at something, even if it is baseball. “No I haven’t. And so what if I have? I mean--it’s post season, you’ll get sick of me if you see me all the time.” _Drop it. Just drop it, dammit._

 

"… I think," Kuroko slowly says, "you should probably let me decide whether I'd get sick of you or not. Besides, it isn't about that. If you think I'm mad at you, you're wrong, you know." 

 

Kagami exhales hard through his nose, looking back to Kuroko and away. He stands, crossing to the fridge, bending to open it. “You want a Coke? I mean, a Cola? Or Pocari Sweat?”

 

"Pocari, please." Kuroko turns, hooking his chin over the back of the couch to stare at Kagami's back. "It's normal, that kind of biological response. I'm really not mad." 

 

A bottle of Pocari slips from Kagami’s fingers, and only lightning-fast reflexes save it from hitting the floor. Just now, Kagami wishes he could press the cold bottle against his cheeks or the back of his neck to cool himself down. “There’s nothing normal about it,” he mutters, staying facing into the fridge for a lot longer than necessary. He tosses the bottle over his shoulder, not bothering to look and see if Kuroko will catch it, even if he’s a few feet in front of a very expensive television. “I’m sorry, okay? Just don’t bring it up again, shit.”

 

Kuroko lurches forward, grabbing the bottle with both hands. "But you don't have to apologize." His brow furrows as he sinks back down. "And I'm not going to drop it because you're still upset." _Oddly enough._  

 

“I’m upset because--” 

 

_Because you don’t think anything of it._

 

_Because back home, in L.A., they’d have already made up their minds about me._

 

_Because I’m not really sure what I am anymore, here or there._

 

Kagami closes the fridge, leaning back against the wall, letting his head thunk against it. “In America, they’d think it meant something, you know.”

 

Kuroko's head slowly tilts to the side. "… I would have thought they were more relaxed about it. Here, I know _everyone_ is weird about it." He slowly uncaps the bottle, thinking. "Aomine, too. Actually, the more I think about it, the more you two are alike, sometimes. Ah. But don't tell him that," he absently adds. 

 

For some reason, the thought of being compared to Aomine _like that_ of all ways makes Kagami see red, and he leaps over the back of the couch without thinking, standing on the cushions and towering down over Kuroko. “Hey! You can’t do things like that with Aomine!”

 

Another blink, and Kuroko swallows back a sip of his drink. "I didn't. He turned redder than your hair and ran off. Slipped on the tiles and fell, even, and Akashi yelled at him for hurting himself. At least you were more graceful, congratulations." 

 

“Akashi--” That name is still something of a sore point, but at least that clears some things up. “Oh. Middle school, then?” _I hope he hurt himself a lot. I hope he does it again soon._ “But you can’t let Akashi and Aomine think things like that about you. You’re going to get in trouble.”

 

"Akashi didn't know," Kuroko carefully answers, "and Aomine didn't exactly _tell_ anyone. It was just something that happened, anyway." _Though Aomine wasn't quite as weird as you, even if it was a lot more naked, soapy bodies pressed close by accident, and less me just giving you a rubdown after a hard practice_. "Kagami… I'm not going to get in trouble. Neither are you," he mildly adds. "No one noticed. You left _really_ fast." 

 

Kagami swallows hard, suddenly realizing that he’s standing on the furniture, and jumps lightly down to the ground--as lightly as he can with his size, anyway--before flopping back down to the couch. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be weird about it. I just--ah, everything’s so _confusing_.” He rubs a hand over his face, irritated at a hundred things. “You know, in America, even on teams, guys don’t touch each other. Not like here. Just hi-fives, maybe a one-arm hug if we win a big match. Anything else and they call you a--they call you something.”

 

"Ah." Kuroko's eyes lid, and he rolls the bottle of his drink slowly between his palms "Well, I don't think you're anything but Kagami, so none of that really matters to me. But if it bothers you so much, I can just not do your rub-downs or something. I was once told I have girly hands, maybe that's the problem." 

 

“Your damn _hands_ aren’t the problem! And I don’t want anyone else to do it, you’re the best at it.” Kagami twists off the cap of his own bottle, downing half the drink in a gulp. “But you probably shouldn’t, yeah. If you got in trouble for it when I’m the problem I’d be really pissed off.”

 

 _Frustrating_. "I already told you I don't care about getting in trouble. It isn't like I've told anyone, or _will_ tell anyone." Kuroko frowns, and idly caps his bottle again before reaching out to prod Kagami's cheek with it. "You could always tell me what the worst spots are. It doesn't happen every time, so maybe if I just don't work on those places in public?" 

 

 _It’s not about where you were touching me. It’s about how I looked down and saw you on your knees between my legs and thought you looked really fucking good there, like you_ belonged _there._ “It’s not about that,” Kagami mutters, and on impulse, something he’s so good at, adds, “It’s about this,” just before he leans over and presses his lips against Kuroko’s, a firm, assertive kiss before he can remember why he shouldn’t.

 

Oh.

 

Odd, how his mind flashes briefly back to that awkward moment with Aomine a year or so ago, and how Kuroko was fairly certain that for a minute, Aomine was going to do something like this (but ultimately, never did, and for the better, probably). The thought leaves as quickly as it appears, and Kuroko is rather glad he came to properly address this once and for all, because this is a _lot_ better than Kagami running off muttering flustered excuses. 

 

The bottle drops, a hand reaching up to grab hold of Kagami's shirt before he can change his mind and pull away, and Kuroko lurches up in kind, a breath escaping his parted lips as his teeth gently scrape over Kagami's lower lip, tugging. 

 

Kagami’s mind is thundering a hundred things, all conflicting and clamoring for his attention, talking about _shame_ and _culture_ and _respect_ and _disaster_ and what it is to be _Japanese_ and a _man_.

 

It’s a good thing that when his blood is pumping, it’s easy as pie to ignore his brain, at least for Kagami.

 

All he wants to think is that Kuroko’s movements feel like a _yes_ , and a _yes_ is all he wants. He leans in, thinking dimly _I should have known you’d be a biter_ , because somehow for Kuroko, that makes sense too.

 

Well, he hasn't been tossed off the couch yet in a sea of regret, so… 

 

Kuroko takes that as permission to purposefully slide closer, wriggling up between Kagami's legs and gracelessly flopping his arms over his shoulders before pulling back, just enough to _look_ up at him. "If that was the case," he says, unblinking, "you probably should have just done that earlier, instead of avoiding me for days." 

 

Kagami’s heart thuds against his ribcage, and he has the stray thought that _the door is unlocked_ , even though the only person with a key is sound asleep in Los Angeles’s early morning. Kuroko’s eyes, wide and unblinking, are enough to drown out all the other words he might say on a day that makes sense. “Dumbass! I wasn’t going to do that in the locker room!” _We shouldn’t even be doing it here….not that I want to stop._

 

"Well… no," Kuroko agrees. "At least, not when everyone is around." He shifts, eyebrows twitching up a bit when his thigh errantly drags between Kagami's legs. "That's a lot faster than when it's just a rubdown." 

 

“Don’t talk like you have a lot of experience feeling it!” Kagami sputters, even as his eyelids droop at the _press_ of that thigh against where he aches so badly. His lips crack in a grin, eyebrows raised as he grabs one of Kuroko’s hands, dragging it down his own abdomen, suddenly _reckless_. “Not yet.”

 

No matter the new situation, this is a _lot_ more like the Kagami he knows. 

 

Kuroko's breath leaves in a long, exhale of relief at that, though it hitches at the end when his hand is pushed down so insistently. Better. That's a _lot_ better. He hardly needs to be coaxed more than that, and his palm drags between Kagami's legs, along the hard line of his cock. Kuroko's fingers curl, giving it a slow squeeze through fabric as he squirms to lean up again, his mouth fastening to the side of Kagami's neck, his approval 'voiced' in a soft bite and a far longer, lingering _suck_.  

 

Kagami’s mind pulses with the blood in his head, in his fingers, in his cock as if this is a game, the startling clarity of intensity just the same, except there’s nothing to grab and _do_. Well, there probably is something he should be doing, but it’s not like he has a lot of experience, and right now just feeling Kuroko’s hand squeezing and stroking him is almost all he can handle.

 

One large hand reaches down, shoving the elastic waistband of his shorts down enough to let his cock rise up, and his other hand drags up one soft thigh, so much smaller than his own, to curl over the answering bulge in Kuroko’s pants. “You’re so _bitey_ ,” he gasps, trying to keep his mind on something besides how it feels to finally be here, finally be _holding_ him like this, and how it’s a hundred, a thousand times better than any time Alex has tried to rub her chest against him. “Like that stupid mutt. But, you know, good.”

 

"Sorry." Kuroko's not, really, not at all. "If you mind, I'll stop." He probably can't. He blames the instinct to _bite_ on Kagami, just a little bit. Maybe, if he marks this one up, bites and nibbles and leaves just a _few_ little spots to remember it all by in the morning, this one won't change or cast him aside in the process even if he _does_ \--

 

Kuroko shudders, willing his mind to effectively click off when his fingers drag down the bare length of Kagami's cock, thumb sliding firmly over the slick head of it. He's not _quite_ coordinated enough to fumble with his own pants and bite and _touch_ all at the same time, but he tries anyway, squirming up closer to Kagami in the process and huffing a hot, eager breath against his throat. "You're right. This is a lot better," he murmurs, "than you trying to start something in the locker room." 

 

Indignant, Kagami pulls back from Kuroko’s touch, eyes flashing. “That wasn’t trying to start anything,” he snarls, grabbing Kuroko by the front of his shirt. Then he throws the boy down onto his back on the couch, stretching out on top of him as much as he can, getting a long thigh between Kuroko’s to rub their cocks together, one huge hand wrapping around both of them as he hisses out a breath through his teeth. “This,” he groans, looking down at those wide blue eyes that just make him harder, “is what it feels like when I try to start something. I won’t let you forget it.”

 

 _Good_ is what his mind says, a hard swallow muffling the word as his eyes roll back at that first, slick, _hot_ slide. Kagami's hands are worn but surprisingly _careful_ , and that's enough to make Kuroko shiver, his toes curling as he arches his back, hips twitching up to grind and rut into the other boy's grasp. His own hands move, grabbing at Kagami's shoulders, one dragging down his back, clawing into the hard muscle there while the other fists into his hair. "Start things a lot, then," Kuroko breathlessly mumbles before dragging him down, sucking Kagami's lip into his mouth before kissing him, insistent and _wanting_.

 

Nothing has ever felt like this. Kagami’s pretty sure that’s a good thing, because this feels about so good he’s not sure how he’d _survive_ , feeling it more often. Kuroko’s cock is slippery-hard against his own, and he ruts down against it, feeling the slick glide, the odd brush of short damp hairs, the callouses of his own hand that feels so different when there’s someone else’s dick in it. Kuroko’s mouth on his--that’s perfect, but impossible for his back to keep up when they’re pressed together like this. Kuroko’s mouth presses against his chest instead, because damned if he can give up the slide of their cocks together. “Next time,” he grunts, rubbing his thumb over the leaking tip of Kuroko’s cock, smearing the fluid over his own and almost blacking out at the sensation, “you be on top so I don’t crush you.”

 

Kuroko _thinks_ he nods. Better is biting again, especially because Kagami seemed to _like it,_ and his teeth scrape over the jut of the other boy's collarbone, worrying a bruise to the surface as he sucks on taut flesh. "You can squeeze… a little tighter," he breathlessly groans, the hitch in his voice belying exactly how _good_ it feels, and his hips twitch up, thighs splaying wider as he digs a heel into the couch to better arch _up,_ his cock achingly, painfully hard with each slide and grind. 

 

How like Kuroko, to know exactly what he wants even if--well, Kagami _hopes_ \--he’s never done this before. He squeezes his hand tighter, a low groan ripping its way out of his chest, for the first time cursing how short Kuroko is. It would be _nice_ to kiss him right now, though the scrape of teeth on his collarbone is just as good, the heat of Kuroko’s breath against his skin even better, and with a jerk of his hips, a harsh grunt, everything gets a _whole lot_ slicker between his fingers.

 

There goes any and all ideas of making this _last_. 

 

Kuroko's eyes squeeze shut, his breath a ragged, hitching thing as it leaves his lungs, muffled into the hollow of Kagami's throat as he jerks up, spilling hot and slick within the other boy's grasp. He _probably_ claws a little too hard into Kagami's back, but he has about as much regret about _that_ as he does the biting--which is to say, absolutely _none._

 

He sags back with a hot, shaky huff, blinking dazedly as his mind considers coming back to one piece. 

 

Kagami’s breath is a slow, heaving thing, sweat running down his back as he tries not to lay too heavily on top of Kuroko. Besides, it’s nice to be like this for just a minute, everything a sweet, prickling haze, before he has to face Kuroko and what they’ve done. Slowly, a grin tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You’re not going to let me run away, are you?”

 

"Nope," is the languid response to follow, and with a firm pull, Kuroko drags Kagami down, uncaring of his weight and actually rather enjoying being smothered. "I'll become a growth," he says, voice muffled from where his face presses into Kagami's chest, "like mold." 

 

“Dumbass,” Kagami mutters, but it sounds rather more affectionate than usual. “How long can you stay before your Dad starts texting?”

 

"I told him my partner was really an idiot and failing every subject, so I think he expects me to remain locked up and strapping you to a chair to study all night." 

 

“I’m not failing every subject!” Kagami protests, hefting himself up on his forearms to scowl down at the head tucked against his chest….which is pretty much adorable enough that the fight goes out of him. “I’m passing most things, just...ah, I just don’t care about school the way I do about basketball, there’s no challenge, no fun.”

 

Kuroko's head slowly tips to the side. "I know. But it was a good excuse to make sure I could stay as long as I wanted." 

 

Kagami wriggles his way down, until his feet hang off the end of the couch, and god, why the hell is his heart fluttering harder when he kisses Kuroko _this_ time than the first time?

 

Kuroko sighs out a long, slow breath, sliding his hands gradually up to drape his arms about Kagami's neck. He'd been _hoping_ Kagami's _reactions_ in the locker room had been something like this, and for it actually turning out to be true… Well. He's not _that_ much of a worrier, but it still unravels a spark of tension within him all the same. 

 

"… Sorry," he absently adds between kisses, "about your neck." _And back. Chest, too._ Actually, Kagami looks shockingly like he's been eaten alive, to a degree. 

 

“My--”

 

Kagami frowns, straightening up and turning to look at a mirror. “Oh, for the--” He swears, effusively and in English, before flopping back down on top of Kuroko. “You get to explain that shit to Riko.”

 

Kuroko grunts, letting his head loll over the side of the couch. "Why me? Most guys like to brag about their conquests, tell them about your girlfriend that's exceptionally--what was it--'bitey.'" 

 

“Like I could do that!” Kagami rubs at the marks, face flushing at the prickle of the roughness of his hand against the newly-sensitive skin. “What if they want to know who she is? I’m not going to make up a girlfriend, you know the guys, they’ll follow me until they find out I don’t have one.”

 

"Then come up with a really good story otherwise," Kuroko murmurs, flopping an arm sleepily over his face. "Because you sort of look like I tried to eat you."

 

“How come I have to come up with a story?” Kagami demands. “This is obviously your fault!” The actions don’t quite back up the words, not with how he moves to curl his arms around Kuroko, taking advantage of all the time he’s here, stroking a hand down one lean arm and thrilling at the idea that _I can touch, I can touch as much as I want and he won’t be upset._

 

"Maybe an octopus attached suckers to your neck," Kuroko absently suggests, and he flops his other arm over Kagami's back again. "I could add a few more marks and make it convincing."

 

Kagami stares, briefly looking to the mirror to weigh the options. “….nah,” he finally says, scowling at the raised marks, rubbing a thumb over one. “They don’t look like octopus suckers, do they? Maybe I can say I scraped myself shaving, Kiyoshi’s the only guy on the team who’ll know what that even looks like.”

 

"Mm. The scratches on your back will _definitely_ convince them of that one."

 

“Eh?” Kagami twists around, catches sight of the red tracks down his back, and slumps down to the couch with a groan. “You marked me up like a cat! What did you do that for?”

 

"You seemed to like it at the time," Kuroko mildly points out. "A lot, actually." 

 

“Well, _yeah_ , but these are going to last for a week! What am I supposed to do, wear a turtleneck the whole time?” The mental image of that is enough to make him shudder. Even he has more fashion sense than that.

 

"I'm really starting to think the octopus defense is a better idea," Kuroko wisely retorts. "Barring that, you fell down the stairs." 

 

Kagami scowls, flicking a finger against Kuroko’s forehead. “You’re just trying to get me to tell everyone I have a girlfriend. Why?”

 

Kuroko blinks, not even flinching. "Because you said you wanted to do this again. Instead of making up weird excuses every time, just saying you have a girlfriend is a lot less stressful and everyone will actually believe it." 

 

Kagami frowns, looking down and finally putting a few pieces together. He reaches out again, but instead of flicking Kuroko on the head, he lets his thumb slowly brush over his cheekbone. “Are you seriously worried I won’t want to do this again?”

 

"… I'm surprised you even did it at all," is the slow, careful admission, his eyes lidding as he lets his head tip to the side and against Kagami's touch. "You seemed… pretty freaked out, before."

 

Kagami’s hand freezes for a moment, his face going deadly serious. “I can’t tell if you’re ignoring how dangerous this is,” he says quietly, “or if you just don’t get it. This really isn’t safe. It doesn’t have anything to do with how much I liked it, or how I--look, aren’t you supposed to be the one telling me to think before I do something?”

 

"Don't feel like it." Kuroko heaves a sigh, letting his head fall back. "I know what it is, Kagami, and how dangerous it is. That's why I was surprised that you did anything. I thought… pushing everything else away and focusing only on basketball would be your objective." His lips twitch upward, just slightly. "I'm glad it isn't." 

 

Kagami rolls his eyes, pushing himself up to a seated position, letting one hand rest on Kuroko’s head, gently threading through his hair. “It has nothing to do--well, it _mostly_ has nothing to do with basketball,” he admits. “My focus is good enough that I’m not worried about that--you have to think about other things sometimes or you’ll blow up or have a breakdown.”

 

"You sound like you've gotten smarter," Kuroko replies, shifting and turning around until he can flop his head down onto Kagami's thigh. "You really should apply some of that to school, I don't want to date a guy that is failing everything."

 

“Hey! Did you listen to anything I said?” Kagami’s teeth grind in frustration, but he keeps it out of his body, his touch gentle on Kuroko’s head. “What if you can’t play basketball anymore because someone finds out? No team would have us then, you know. Not Seirin, not after school.”

 

"So we don't tell anyone." Kuroko stares up at him, unwavering. "I wasn't going to, and I am rather good at keeping my mouth shut." A little, annoyed part of him can't help but ask, "Or do you just not want to call it dating?" 

 

Kagami opens his mouth, ready to explode, but mutters instead, “Don’t be stupid. After what we just did I’m definitely your boyfriend.”

 

By that logic… Kuroko's expression shifts slightly wry, and he butts his head against Kagami's hip. "Then stop talking about what would happen if people found out. If we aren't telling anyone, then they're not going to," he calmly replies. "Just try not to get turned on when I'm touching you in public." 

 

“Ah, stop putting your head there,” Kagami says without any real conviction. He hesitates, not wanting to bring up this kind of thing when Kuroko seems so _fine_ with it all, but…. “It doesn’t bother you? You don’t think it makes us….what they say?” Japanese and American attitudes conflict in his head, but none as calm as the look on Kuroko’s face.

 

"Ah. Sorry." Slowly, Kuroko sits up, shaking out his hair and only succeeding in making it more ruffled. "It doesn't bother me because I don't care," he simply returns, sitting back to look up at Kagami. "It doesn't matter to me if you like men or women or both or neither. You're still just Kagami. That goes for everyone." He pauses, head tilting. "Though it's _good_ that you like men. Otherwise we wouldn't be here right now. But I still would have been okay if we just stayed friends." _So long as you_ stayed _._

 

A little grin steals over Kagami’s face at the sight of that rumpled head of hair, and he tugs Kuroko close, wrapping an arm all the way around him. “We’re always going to be friends. We’re partners, right? This….I like kissing you, and everything, and I want you to spend the night and go on dates and stuff, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop being friends.”

 

The last bit of tension that he wasn't even aware he was holding onto dissolves in an instant, and Kuroko smiles into the side of Kagami's neck, his own arms coming to flop over his shoulders as he leans close. "Then I'm not worried about anything," he quietly says. "And you shouldn't be, either." 

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Kagami says hastily, “if you beat on me in practice I’m still going to give you a hard time! It’s better if everything stays the same in public, right? Ugh, you have to help me make up a girlfriend.”

 

"I don't beat on you. It's appropriate corporal punishment." Kuroko hums, tilting his head back in thought. "You don't even have to tell them a lot of details. Just act embarrassed and tell them she's another Japanese girl you met in America, but she goes to another school that doesn't allow their students to date and you rarely get to see her. Also, she's really shy, so you can threaten them and tell them if they try to find out who she is and harass her that you'll punch their faces in." 

 

Kagami stares, jaw falling open. “Hey! That’s--that’s not natural! When did you have time to think of all of that?”

 

Kuroko blinks up at him. "Just now. Ah, sorry. I used to help Kise make up excuses as to why he couldn't date certain girls all the time. Please remember it better than he did, though."

 

“K- _Kise_?” Kagami tries to remember not to gape in shock. It doesn’t work. “I _knew_ there was something between the two of you, the way he always talks. Heh, I’ll definitely be a better boyfriend than that guy!”

 

"… He wasn't my boyfriend. He's just kind of a stalker. Also, he'd date three girls at once sometimes because he kept trying to make them all happy, so he had to have a way to put a limit on it."

 

“Oh.” The spirit of competition dies down, replaced by something quieter, and infinitely more comforting. “You were that scary pink-haired chick’s boyfriend though, right?”

 

Kuroko might have twitched a bit at that. "Ah… well. She certainly thought so. Momoi can be very insistent." 

 

“Heh. She’s something, that’s for sure.” Kagami strokes a hand down Kuroko’s back, resting easily on his waist, pulling him close as if he’s meant to be there. “So have you done a lot of stuff? If there’s something you like we can….do that, I mean.”

 

"I don't know about a _lot_ …" Kuroko settles himself comfortably into Kagami's lap, rather pleased at how well he fits there. The difference in their heights is good for something, at least. "I'm not really set on any one thing. What about you?" He peers upward. "Are you hiding any American boyfriends?" 

 

“No way!” God, it’s strange how natural it is to have Kuroko on his lap, how his arms sort of wrap around him without thinking, resting his chin on the top of Kuroko’s head. “It’s different there, I told you. If you even give a guy a hug, everyone just assumes you’re a couple. I mean, you don’t get blacklisted and stuff, but it would still suck. And my dad sure as hell wouldn’t stand for that kind of thing.”

 

"Mmn." Kuroko lists to the side, eyes lidding. "Then we're even," he idly decides. It's actually a little hard to think when Kagami is this warm and comfortable to curl up against. "You're a furnace." 

 

Sometimes, it’s hard to tell whether Kuroko’s lost the thread of conversation, or if he’s simply changing the subject. Either way, Kagami has to grin. American stereotypes and his father aren’t really the kinds of things he wants to think about with Kuroko on his lap. “You said your dad wasn’t expecting you back until late, right? You could….call him. Say you’re staying over.”

 

"You don't mind?" Never mind that he's already sort of reaching for his phone--more like flopping towards it. That's about as much effort as he can muster. "I guess you must get lonely, living by yourself like this." 

 

There’s really nothing Kagami can say to that that doesn’t sound pathetic, so he just tightens his arm. “It’s better when you’re here,” he settles on, because damn, that’s been true even before tonight. "Everything is."

 

Kuroko smiles as he bends over his phone, voting on a text than an actual call. Same difference, really. "I don't bite when I sleep, at least," he lightly offers. "At least, not that I know of." 

 

“Maybe I’ll tell everyone my girlfriend’s name is Kamu-chan. That would explain the marks.”

 

"Ah. That's surprisingly clever of you," Kuroko says, unblinking. "Izuki will be proud of you." 

 

“Why do you always have to say I’m being _surprisingly_ smart?” Kagami protests, dislodging Kuroko from his lap to stand, stretching out. “Hey….since you’re here, before we go to bed, you could actually help me with my Japanese Lit homework.”

 

"Because it would be dishonest to say it was unsurprising," Kuroko mildly replies, and sets down his phone with a stretch of his own. "And all right. Let's make sure our teachers are surprised, too, in a good way." 

 

“Yeah!” Kagami grabs his book out from his bookbag, opening it determinedly to the last thing he can remember reading. “At least here we don’t have summer school. That was awful.”

 

"But we have the homework equivalent," Kuroko points out, listing to the side to flop his head against Kagami's shoulder. Ahh, furnaces aren't fair. "Same difference." 

 

“Hey, stop that. You’re going to fall asleep and I can’t read all these kanji.”

 

"I can multi-task. You're just comfortable." 

 

Kagami stops in the middle of a snarl. It’s not like he really wants Kuroko to pull away, after all. “Well...fine. Just help me with this translation, the last time I studied kanji they were in a morality tale.”

 

Kuroko blinks at that. "It's no small wonder you have trouble, then. All right," he sighs, straightening up a bit. "Let's just get this out of the way. Then you're going to be my pillow." 

 

Kagami bites back the retort of _what if I want to be the pillow_ , and bends over his homework. Obnoxious--he’s probably only got 800 or so kanji completely memorized, his brushwork (as the calligraphy teacher tells him so often) is abysmal, and worst of all, his English spelling is even worse. “I used to be a pretty good student,” he mutters quietly. “Not just in P.E. I mean.”

 

"It won't be that hard to catch up. Well… all right, in some things, you will have to focus a bit more," Kuroko admits, eyes lidding as he reads over what Kagami has so far. "In our downtime between practices and everything, we can work on this. I don't mind stopping over to tutor you if you'll have me." 

 

“Quit saying stupid things like that, I’m never gonna kick you out.” Kagami leans over, trying an experimental bite on Kuroko’s shoulder. Nope, definitely doesn’t see the appeal from this side of it.

 

Kuroko blinks at him, and calmly turns his head to lean up and bite Kagami's shoulder back. "I'm glad. Then I'm going to start by marking all of your mistakes. You actually aren't _that_ bad, I just think those years in America threw you off." 

 

“I don’t know how they can expect people to study abroad and still know Japanese when they come back,” Kagami complains, and instead of leaning sideways, picks Kuroko up and puts him in his lap again, bending over his shoulder to look at the words. “Japanese is hard enough when you live here all the time. Every time I go back to America I swear more of it falls out of my brain.” His mouth twitches, and he admits, “I’d like to take you there, though. At some point.”

 

"Hmm? But my English isn't very fluent, even if I know a lot of past participles," Kuroko murmurs, completely unfazed about being set back into Kagami's lap again. If anything, the warmth is nice and Kagami is sort of obscenely comfortable to curl up against as he goes through the other boy's writing with a pen. "And I'd probably embarrass you by just bowing all the time." 

 

“Yeah, I did that when I first got there. I got so embarrassed I stopped bowing, and every time my dad came to a parent-teacher conference he’d get really mad at me for not showing respect.”

 

"That sounds complicated." Kuroko's eyes lid thoughtfully. "You seem to have a solid grasp on all the basics… next time, I'll bring my old middle school drill books, so you can catch up on all intermediate kanji that you're lacking. That's the worst thing," he says, tilting his head back to look at Kagami. "Your learning curve is all wrong--not that I blame you, all things considered." 

 

“Great, more homework,” Kagami moans, though a middle-school textbook sounds a lot more doable than the jibberish he’s been dealing with so far. “At least I’m okay in math and science, those are the same everywhere. It’s just the language stuff that throws me off.”

 

"It won't be that bad. I'll drill you while we're running laps or something, make you count kanji strokes in the air like a _real_ nerd." 

 

Kagami growls, pinching the inside of Kuroko’s thigh in revenge. “Is that why you run so slow? Are you counting strokes?”

 

"No, I'm naming off capitals in alphabetical order of every country in the world," Kuroko answers, deadpan even when his leg twitches a bit. "Also, I'm just slow."

 

“Why would--ahh, you’re weird.” Kagami says with a grin, letting his hand scoot up further now, curious how far he can go before Kuroko tries to get him talking about stroke order again.

 

Kuroko reaches down without batting an eye, pinching Kagami's hand. "Homework. Rewrite all of this," he instructs, waving the paper in Kagami's face. "I put the correct kanji there for you this time, so you can see it in context and better memorize it later. While you're doing that, I'm going to write up some notes for you, in case our teacher asks you for explanations or something like that. You can use them as a study guide later, too." 

 

“Fine,” Kagami mutters, pulling out a pen and starting work. “But I get to touch your ass later.”

 

For his part, Kuroko just looks faintly amused. "All right. I don't think it's a very good one, though. Sorry." 

 

“Don’t worry,” Kagami assures him, “I don’t have many others to compare it to. I’m sure it’ll be worth the kanji.”

 

As it turns out, Kagami is just as easy to sleep with as he is to do most other things with (it helps, of course, that Kuroko is genuinely tired and sort of passes out in minutes).

 

The only problem is that Kagami's apartment is _cold_ \--does he keep it that way, compensating for the fact he himself is that much warmer? Probably. Kuroko wakes up a few hours into the night, blinking blearily, and rolls over, nestling his way into the covers. 

 

Not enough.

 

He's not at his most logical when half-asleep, and so burrowing his way into Kagami's shirt makes perfect sense at the time. It would make more sense if the other boy wasn't still _wearing it_ , but… oh well. He still fits, curled now quite snugly into Kagami's chest and sleeping soundly.

 

Kagami isn’t sure what time he wakes up--some point before dawn, but not long before, judging by the light filtering in through the single small window in his bedroom. He starts to roll over to check the clock, and stops, confused by the unusual distribution of his own weight.

 

No, not his _own_ weight.

 

Looking down, a familiar shock of light blue hair is tucked up against his chest, somehow _inside_ his shirt. Kagami stares for a moment, then abandons the clock, tugging the covers over both of them no matter that they usually make him way too hot. It doesn’t really matter what time it is; there’s no way he’s leaving bed when Kuroko’s like this.

 

Kuroko stirs, just a bit, just enough to wriggle his way contently against Kagami's chest a bit more and butt his face into the solid warmth of it. "Sorry," he sort of mumbles. Except he's not. He's _really_ not when he's this comfortable. "Furnace again." 

 

“Mmm, don’t apologize.” Kagami’s mouth quirks. “You want to get in my pants, too?”

 

There's a pause in which Kuroko honestly considers it. "I'd probably fit."

 

“I wasn’t _serious_ , that wouldn’t be comfortable.” Well. Probably. “Are you that cold? I can turn the heat on.”

 

"No. I was joking, too." Kuroko wriggles a bit, idly poking at one of Kagami's hip bones. "Everyone says my hands are always cold, though. Maybe poor circulation is why I can't shoot." 

 

“Are you saying the only reason I’m good at basketball is because I’m warm?” Kagami honestly can’t decide whether to be insulted or not.

 

"No, though I bet it helps." 

 

Kagami rolls his eyes, letting large hands stroke up and down Kuroko’s back and arms, warming him gently. “Here, let me share.”

 

Kuroko sighs out through his nose, eyes slowly sliding shut again as he wriggles up to butt his head underneath Kagami's chin. "Better," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to wake you up, though. Sorry about that."

 

“It’s fine. I’m surprised I slept at all.” Kagami nuzzles down into his hair. “I thought I’d be too excited to have you in my bed to sleep, but you make me comfortable.”

 

"… Have you wanted this for awhile?" Kuroko tilts his head back enough to peer up at Kagami, stretching out his shirt a bit in the process. Oops. 

 

Kagami shifts, as much as he can, in this weird three-legged (two-headed?) race. “I don’t think about it all the time,” he says honestly. “Just….I dunno. When I’m not thinking about basketball or school.”

 

If he does the math, that's still a good amount of time. Well, that's good. Kuroko hides another smile into Kagami's chest. "I already told you I'd become a growth. Like mold. This is the first step." 

 

Kagami reaches down, grateful for long arms when his hand fits perfectly around most of Kuroko’s ass, giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, well, if that means you’re always gonna be there for me to do this to, go ahead, Moldy.”

 

 _That's_ a squeak that he didn't quite expect to escape. "… I'm never going anywhere," Kuroko manages, huffing out a breath. "And I suppose I'm glad you… like it so much." 

 

“Stop talking so formal,” Kagami says with a groan, leaning down (way down) to meet Kuroko’s lips, giving his ass another firm squeeze, already anticipating a bite.

 

"I--" _Don't really know how to do that??_ Right, more importantly, Kagami's mouth is on his, and Kuroko can't _help_ but nip a little when those big hands are grabbing and squeezing again, making him squirm upward and grumble quietly in the back of his throat at the annoying position he's gotten himself into, wrapped up in Kagami's shirt. 

 

Kagami pulls away, lips already reddened, unable to help himself from laughing. “What the hell is that weird noise you’re making? Am I squeezing too hard?”

 

Kuroko frowns up at him. "No, I'm mad now that I decided to make a nest out of your shirt," he mutters, giving a pointed wriggle. "You should take it off."

 

How can someone be so weird and still so cute? That seems, annoyingly, endearingly, to be Kuroko’s specialty. Kagami strips off his shirt, and just because he’s already stripping, kicks off his shorts, too. “Do yours too.” His voice comes out hushed, expectant, as though he hasn’t seen Kuroko naked a hundred times in the changing rooms.

 

 _But it's cold_ is the automatic response that wants to fall from his tongue, there's a _good_ solution for that, really. Shirt off, and with his own shorts to follow, Kuroko wastes no time burrowing his way close again, nestling his way flush against Kagami's chest, mouthing an absent kiss to the jut of the other boy's collarbone. 

 

True to his word, Kagami rolls onto his back, giving himself free rein to paw over Kuroko’s body, heart thudding in his chest harder with every movement, even the innocent ones. Just to have the permission to _touch_ is intoxicating, something he hadn’t even realized he’d _wanted_ so much before getting that first heady taste. “Here. This way I won’t squish you.”

 

"You didn't really squish me before," Kuroko tells him, but worms his way atop Kagami all the same, splaying himself against that broad chest. "It felt nice," he murmurs, teeth scraping against the line of Kagami's jaw as his hands slide up, dragging through the thick mess of the other boy's hair. "But this does, too."

 

Not for remotely the first time, Kagami wishes it were easier to tell what the hell Kuroko’s thinking. Those wide blue eyes are so opaque sometimes--is there a hint of that same longing there he knows is in his own eyes? The rush, the disgrace, the desire? “Yeah,” he murmurs, both hands running up Kuroko’s upper thighs, squeezing his ass, then down again. “Nice is one word for it.”

 

Somehow, that's a _lot_ more intimate than Kagami's hand on his cock. Kuroko shivers, not exactly _embarrassed_ by the way his legs splay on their own accord, knees fitting rather nicely to either side of Kagami's waist, but his face is hotter all the same with every knead of those strong fingers. "You're… good at that," he mumbles, breath hot against Kagami's throat as he can't _help_ but grind down, not when heat rushes so quickly to his groin. "Have you really never done this?"

 

“J-just yesterday.” He hadn’t meant for that little quaver to be in his voice, but Kagami hadn’t expected Kuroko to straddle him like that either. Like this, it feels like _sex_ , not just ‘messing around,’ and even if that’s exactly what he wants, Kagami can’t help but shiver. “Is there a _bad_ way to squeeze someone’s ass?”

 

"Definitely," Kuroko says, very seriously, and he presses another lingering, sucking kiss to the side of Kagami's neck as his own breath hitches in his throat. "But… the way you're doing it… definitely isn't." 

 

“Whatever you say, Kamu-chan,” Kagami teases, always having to remind himself to be _gentle_ , that Kuroko’s so small he could get squashed so easily if he’s not careful. It’s not exactly his first time being careful--he’s always careful of Kuroko without thinking about it, even while returning smack for smack. Otherwise Kuroko would probably be in the hospital every week, a thought that sends a cold chill down Kagami’s spine. 

 

He considers for a moment exploring a little further, letting his fingertips dip into the cleft of Kuroko’s ass, but forgoes that for paying more attention to his buttocks and thighs. That just seems messy and perverted, nothing like the touching and kissing that’s going so well.

 

Two nicknames in a night--Kuroko thinks that's probably some sort of good success rate. Ah, but more important are Kagami's briefly hesitating fingers that make him pause a bit as well, and Kuroko squirms up to kiss him again instead of commenting at first. "Do you… hm." There's no real elegant way to put it, is there? He sits up a bit, flushed and mussed, peering down at Kagami with hooded eyes. "You were asking me if there was anything I liked. What about you?" 

 

“I don’t know,” Kagami says honestly, a rueful grin on his face. “You’re the only one I’ve ever done this with. I liked it when you put your hand on my dick, that was pretty much my number one so far.”

 

" _That_ part is a given," Kuroko mumbles, and with a thoughtful tilt of his head, he wriggles back, fingers curling around Kagami's cock to guide it between his thighs, settling back as he shifts to better squeeze his legs together. "… Thrust your hips up," he quietly, breathlessly says, thumb swiping slowly over the head of Kagami's cock, dragging that slickness down the length of it as far as he can. 

 

Kagami does as he’s told, and almost blacks out from the pleasure. “ _Fuck_ ,” he swears in English, rutting up again, his breath coming short and hot in little urgent bursts. “Fuck, fuck, _shit_ , where did you learn how to do that?” This feels like he’s always imagined _fucking_ would, far and away from how it feels when they’d been rubbing eagerly against each other.

 

"J-just… an idea." Kuroko bites his own lip, shivering as he grabs for Kagami's hands, pulling them up to his thighs. "It's hard to keep them shut on my own, when you move," he breathlessly manages, squirming to keep them _tight_ around Kagami's cock, feeling every pulse and throb of it against his own quivering skin. "So…" 

 

It takes a moment before Kagami figures out what Kuroko’s trying to tell him. When he gets it, he groans, squeezing hard at Kuroko’s thighs, shoving them together and thrusting up into that tight press, slicker with every thrust of his hips. “God,” he groans, “this is the _best_ , you--have good ideas, Kuroko--”

 

Kuroko manages a nod, his own breath ragged as he squirms down, _forward_ , eyes squeezing shut when Kagami slides up between his thighs and against his own cock, hard and dripping and _slick_. He huffs out a panting exhale, his hands sliding down to curl over Kagami's, _liking_ the feel of that almost too-rough grab and squeeze, hoping (knowing) he'll have a smattering of bruises there and a bit of awkward soreness to remember it by, just like those bite marks he left behind. 

 

This is too much.

 

Yesterday, grabbing and rubbing had been too much, but this--this is another league. Kagami lurches up, wanting to be kissing Kuroko when he finishes, and it’s a sloppy mess when he does, lips and tongue mouthing hot somewhere in the vicinity of Kuroko’s mouth, joined too much by teeth, but it’s hard to _think_ when he’s sliding up like this, _fucking_ Kuroko’s thighs, and that thought alone is too much.

 

His hands dig in far too tight when he comes, bruising pale thighs as he slams up, spilling hot and messy over Kuroko’s thighs, his stomach, his cock. He groans, his whole body gone tense and shuddering, until finally he sags back onto the bed, chest heaving. “ _Shit_ ,” he breathes, hands shaking as he unclenches them with an effort of will.

 

Kuroko isn't far behind--or rather, he's there _with him_ , the whimper in the back of his throat effectively muffled by Kagami's mouth, the arc and twinge and _ache_ of his own body when he gives in, shuddering and shivering, all lost when Kagami is doing the same, albeit much louder and rougher and ah, god, that's _nice_. 

 

He flops down bonelessly, uncaring of the sticky mess between them and the slickness of sweat, his own chest heaving practically in time with the other boy's as he wriggles up just enough to mouth a wet kiss to the side of Kagami's neck. Apparently, he _does_ have really good ideas. 

 

Kagami surprises even himself with the roughness of his arms, coming up around Kuroko to hold him _very_ tightly. “You’ll stay with me.” It’s not really a question, not really a demand. Honestly, Kagami has no idea what it is, only that it’s _important_.

 

Kuroko nods, the movement only barely manageable with how tightly he's being held, and how his face is pressed into Kagami's neck. It's better that way, though, especially when he's smiling this much. "Definitely staying."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
